Ledgend of the Dominion Jewel
by icekitty222
Summary: The story that Coram tells Alanna in Lioness Rampant


_Carthak, 134 H.E._

Miache wiped the knife clean on the dead man's tunic. The young whore had already run, so much the better. Thief she may be, heartless she may be, but she was also possessive, and anyone trying to hurt her people was in for an unpleasant thanks.

She wandered out of the ally way, keeping to the shadows- it wasn't hard to do on the night of the new moon. The area she was in was right next to the docks, so the man she just killed was probably a sailor of some sort. No difference for her, no one had to know she was behind the kill.

Fully dressed, even looking like a man, she couldn't exactly jump into the river, though she wanted to. The city built right where the river and Great Inland Sea met had been her home for twenty some years now, and she knew its water like the back of her hand. At least when she was swimming, no one was around to irritate her.

"Mikiali?" Miache turned to the sound of the name she went by on the streets. She could go by a man's name, as her pale-blond hair was cut like a man's, and her skill with a knife, or even without one, kept any taunts about a slim form at bay. A young runner stood in the light of a torch to be seen, and thus not knifed. He answered to one of the thief lords under her rule. "Some men from Galla be lookin' for you. Rich 'uns too."

"What do they want?" she asked.

The boy shrugged. "Wanna hire you for somethin', but won't say what."

Miache snorted. "If they want me that bad, they'll find me themselves. Scamper."

The boy bowed and ran. Miache waited until she could no longer hear him, then started walking. Some drunk lord had to be about- and thus begging to loose his valuables.

She wandered through the streets to go to where she might find a lord for robbing. No matter where she went though, women were about to offer their bodies up for use. She sneered at them, remembering her own mother with black skin and hair, doing much the same till she got her throat slit one night. Miache had sold herself, to old men who liked little girls' bodies, even bastard ones with an unknown northern father. She figured that was the reason that around her, old men had a high chance of sudden heart-failure from unknown means. The poison wasn't one well known.

When she returned to where the upper members of her gang met, a dock house bought by Miache's predecessor, there was an unpleasant surprise of seeing two foreigners sitting there, drinking ale.

"What do you want?" she growled, standing across the table from them. A table wasn't much of an obstacle for her, but for the two men who looked like they didn't usually walk on their own, it would be.

One of them reached in his shirt, pulled out a bag, and threw it onto the table in front of Miache. She looked at a table and snapped her fingers. The woman sitting there, looked at the bag, frowning slightly, then looked back at Miache, nodding slightly. The bag was magic free, so she opened it.

In it was enough gold to make even her pause. She drew her dagger, drew it across the top of one coin, and saw it was real.

"You have my attention, gentlemen." Miache sat down, eyeing the men.

The one who had given her the purse spoke first. "I see no need to give you our names, but we are from Galla with an offer for you."

The second man spoke now. "The king holds the Dominion Jewel, but certain factions wish to change that little detail. Having heard of you in Galla, it was decided that you were the best choice for this. We want you to steal the Jewel. You will, of course, get proper payment."

Miache raised an eyebrow. The area was rather quiet, for all some 30 people where there. Doubtless, all where listening in, but the men probably didn't care. So long as they got the Jewel, who risked their neck for it wouldn't matter. But she wanted first dibs on a job that had benefactors that would give as much money as she had just gotten for an upfront fee.

She stood. "Come with me. We will continue to discuss this."

She led the men up a flight of stairs, to where there were privet rooms. One was hers, even if it was rarely used. It was sparsely furnished, but there were enough chairs.

"Sit," Miache ordered, dropping into a chair herself. The men sat, if a little warily. "Now, what is the proper payment I will get for this?"

The men shrugged. "The title of duke if you want it, if not, enough gold for you to live like one here."

Miache leaned back in the chair, thinking. She could guess why they wanted to Jewel stolen; the Galla king enjoyed stripping his nobles of power. Obviously, someone in power wanted that to change. The Jewel made sure that the current king would always hold the throne. A lack of any names meant that if she was caught stealing it, only she would be facing execution.

She had robbed palaces before. That was part of what made Mikiali the thief king famous. Planning had taken months and a close encounter with lions' feeding time, but it had been pulled off. She just had to do that again, and she would practically be a king.

She studied the two men. They were very similar to those she had sold her body to as a child. No more courting a painful death should she be arrested. Never again would she whore, or loose money when injured. The title of duke would make sure of that.

"I need a floor plan of the castle, where the Jewel is hidden, what is guarding it, and anything else you can tell me."

One of the men had been carrying a case, thin and rectangular. He opened it, so it was facing her, showing her papers, diagrams, and maps.

"Do we have a deal, Thief King Mikiali?" asked the man.

She gave an icy smile. "I believe we do, sir."

The men left, telling her delivery information was in the case. Miache leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. Everything was dull wood, with random weapons and tools hidden about. The window was two stories up, looking at a wall, with an ally underneath. Getting out of it was no problem at all and, case in tow, she went to a place to sleep for the night.

It was an hour or so past dawn when Miache finished reading everything. Reading was a talent she had acquired when a monk wished his life spared. But now, three stories up and protected, more or less, Miache wanted to sleep. She would put together a plan later.

Two weeks later, Miache left for Galla after conferring with those under her.

"I'm leaving for Galla," she had told them. "You all get to decide how things are split up- I won't be coming back."

No one was heart-broken, and one or two offered to help get her to Galla faster- or to the bottom of the river. She ignored them.

Room purchased on a ship, she left with everything she would need- clothes, tools, and the case that had all the information she would need. She had the maps and guard patterns memorized now, but there were still a few little details of how to actually get to the Jewel.

According to the information, it was protected, in a hidden room under the king's chambers, protected by magic, traps, and guards. It was a problem she often considered while sitting on the deck of the ship, watching the ocean as the ship sailed.

The captain told her that they were going to the river by the city of Tyra, up to Galla. She seemed to scare the man, because he babbled about the route through Tortall, his family, and his best customers. He looked like a rat, if only having the brains of one of the gulls that flew overhead. According to the sailors, who she diced with some nights, the only thing he was good for was their paying them- the first mate ran everything.

"Kinda nice, really," one of the sailors told her as she watched his dice game for some copper pieces. "I served in the navy for a few years, got a captain who hated us. But now he don't care about us, leaves us be, lets us run the ship proper."

"You heard the news about Galla?" asked one man. Miache couldn't see him with the oil lamps under the deck. "Heard they're ready for a civil war- once the thief Mikiali steals the Dominion Jewel for 'em."

"I heard that man's a demon," said one of the sailors. There were some murmurs of agreement. "Killed his own mother."

One sailor snorted. "Must be a mix between a demon and the trickster god, things he's done."

Miache liked her reputation.

No storms bothered the ship, leaving it rocking gently with the ocean. It was all very fine and good, and Miache could appreciate not sinking, but without the city surrounding her, things seemed too quiet and too exposed.

They passed they city of Tyra without stopping, and one sailor explained to Miache, "Overrun with thieves and pirates, no one respectable within fifty miles of the place. Captain dun want us stopping there, and we ain't about to argue with that order."

The passage north was long and dull, but still faster then Miache could have done walking. Most of her time was spent reading and rereading the papers, working out routs and ways to face the magic. Thankfully, she knew what kind of magic it was. The lock to the room was spelled, and the floor was spelled to alert of intruders.

Her final plan, as the ship made ready to port in Galla, was to steal the thing off the king. Mithros, that would be a headache to pull off, but the promise of the money was worth it.

I wonder if the king likes women that aren't his wife, Miache thought as she left the ship. She almost stumbled- she was never quick about getting her land-legs back.

The black stallion she stole was a beautiful creature, cutting the time from the port to Cira, the capital, from a two week journey to a one week trip. The sword she'd taken with it kept people from asking where she'd gotten the creature.

The week spent in the open traveling was the most nerve-racking Miache had ever had the misfortune to have. She wasn't one who knew forests and mountains- she liked the heat of her desert city. Live like a duke, and have to suffer through this cold? It was April, it shouldn't be this cold. She entertained herself with thoughts of selling the Jewel for the price of the title of Duke somewhere warmer.

Plus there was the little issues of her real gender…

Once in Cira, the horse was sold for a pretty penny to someone who knew not to ask questions. The money was spent on a room in an inn. Vermin infested, but seemed popular enough with the local thieves.

The stairway provided a bit of a problem though- it seemed to have been designed so that someone going up the stairs could be jumped, something that Miache learned first hand as she went to bed around midnight.

Cursing her stupidity as a hand grabbed her, she tried to grab a knife, but was thrown across the tiny landing to the next set of stairs. She was on her feet instantly, hand going for a knife, but paused before actually drawing it.

Two men stood on the stairs above her. A man and a woman stood below her. None seemed interested, at the moment, in harming her, so she felt no need to tempt the trickster.

"Welcome to Galla, Master Mikaili," said the man who had grabbed her. "Glad to see you made it in one piece."

"And I'd like to stay that way, if it's all the same," she answered dryly. Her attackers were only shadows, so she couldn't identify who she was dealing with.

"Don't worry," said the woman. "We want you to, too. Why don't we all sit down and have a chat, friendly-like?"

"Sure," Miache agreed. She hadn't gotten this far by not knowing when to set down from a fight.

The room she was lead into only had one chair, so Miache leaned against the wall by the door. The woman got the chair, and the three men either sat on the floor or stood. MIache didn't speak, just waited.

The man on the floor spoke first. "I'm Dagen, king here. Now, if you steal the Jewel, as everyone knows you've come to do, we'll have a war on our hands, which is what we want. Don't like the current king, and a war means that less attention will be paid to us common folk. Simple reasons for our own benefit. But, we're willing to get you any information you need."

Miache gave a silent thanks to the Trickster for this lovely gift dropped into her lap. She considered silently for a few moments, then spoke. "Alright. Perhaps you'd know something about the king's patterns?"

Since the rumor had gotten out that the Jewel was to be stolen, the Gallan king had taken to wearing it around his neck, except at night when it was put into the corner she had been told about. But he did like women, despite being married.

I've whored before, I can do it one last time, Miache told herself, stroking up the fire in the king's bedroom. She'd been preparing for five days, and now even had help. Like that most of the palace guard would be busy throwing up their guts from some bad food.

The dress she wore was too small, tight on her hips, and the front lacing undone to show off her breasts. The king should be going to bed tonight, a sly noble man suggesting that a special treat waited for him. Miache had laughed when she learned about the thief noble in the palace.

She wasn't in for an unpleasant surprise. The king came to his room alone. She would have attacked him then, but he had spells to alert the guards if he was attacked.

Miache had been kneeling on the floor, fixing the rug, when he entered. Quickly she rose and curtsied, looking up through her lashes and giving what she thought of as her 'whore smile'.

"Good evenin, Majesty," she asked some what huskily. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

The king looked her over, leering. "Oh, there are a lot of things you can do for me."

Well then. But she had something more important then a fat old man to worry about. "Pardon me, your Majesty, but I must ask, is that the Dominion Jewel? The one the famous thief is supposed to steal?"

Her eyes were wide. The king seemed to buy it. "Yes. Do you think he'll get it?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, Majesty! No one could steal anything from someone so great as you."

"Of course they couldn't." But he let her come closer, close enough to touch. Her hand stroked his neck, just above the chain holding the Jewel.

"It's an honor to be so close to such a great man," she murmured. He kissed her mouth. No finesse, a lot of spit, and some grunting. His mouth moved to her neck as he rubbed her breasts… and he collapsed to the floor.

"What a lovely invention," Miache murmured, referring to the drug on her skin that when swallowed would make the person fall asleep, sometimes used by whores who didn't feel like whoring.

She grabbed the Jewel off of his neck, and got back into her own clothes. She sprinted out of the room and through the servants' staircase, taking a rout that should put her out of the palace.

It did. Miache was getting wary now- things should not go that easy when robbing a king who knew he was to be robbed. She was back into the city before she paused. Hidden in an alleyway, too small to be of any use for anyone, she crouched close to the ground, shivering slightly, thinking rapidly.

The Jewel dug into her palm. She didn't dare let go of it. But she stared at it, trying to decide what to do.

It was cold here. She had no promise that someone wouldn't turn on her and have her arrested. She would be Duke Mikiali, having to pretend to be a male always. How did she know that she would even get the promised title? That would only happen if the side she worked for won. And something else in her gut told her not to stay- and that was the voice that tended to save her life.

The horse she stole wasn't nearly as nice as the one she'd gotten before, but as the watch called out the midnight hour, she was gone from Cira, south bound. It took five days to reach the rive Drell, hard riding and little sleep. But she would have to get out of the country soon, or else risk being caught.

Apparently word of her theft had been spread by magic, because when she reached the port city, no one was allowed to leave without being searched. Miache rolled her eyes. Silly fools, not even able to figure out how to stop a thief.

She had to leave the horse, but bought a week's worth of food, and left by night. She was thankful for the coat she had gotten in Cira. The Dominion Jewel was around her neck now, warm against her skin. She wouldn't guarantee that it was suppose to be warm, but it was comforting. What a strange idea.

Eight days of travel, well into Tusain, and Miache ran out of supplies. There seemed to be no towns on this side of the river, but maybe if she crossed the river into Tortal there would be something. She hadn't seen a bridge this far, so decided to keep going. There was frost on the ground- she couldn't imagine why it was so cold in early autumn.

Half a day's travel down, and she found… what might have once been a bridge. Miache eyed it, weighing her chances of getting across the mostly rotted wood. She could go another day or so with no food, had done so enough, but there was no way to know if there was another bridge within that distance.

She could cross rooftops in a city, she could cross a damn bridge.

Holding firmly onto the railing, she started across. About the middle of the bridge, there was no bridge to step on, though the railing was in place. She grabbed a hold of that and started to ease across. The Trickster must have been in a bad mood, because once she was far enough away from anything to grab, the railing she was on broke, plunging her into icy water.

She gasped, swimming for the surface. In the ocean, she could swim with the best of them, but this wasn't the ocean. The current too swift, too cold, and a rock positioned just so that she could hit her head on it.

When Miache finally came around, it took a few minuets to determine what had happened. She remembered hitting her head, but that didn't explain how she ended up dry, warm, and almost comfortable. Her eyes opened slightly, and she found herself looking at a ceiling supported by wood beams. Her nose informed her something was cooking.

"Are you hungry?"

Miache turned her head, trying not to wince at the pain. A fire crackled in a hearth, not even ten feet away. The room was tiny, and she was sharing it was a man. He was good looking, she thought, looking like he was in an army.

"Are you hungry?" he asked again. His voice was deep and a little raspy, as thought someone had tried to ruin his voice box.

"Yes," Miache answered, sitting up. The white shirt she was wearing wasn't hers, but covered to her thighs- and nothing seemed to be under it. Her feet were also in socks that weren't hers, and she was warm. That was probably the most important part.

The man ladled soup from a pot on the hearth into a bowl, and handed it to her with a spoon. She nodded thanks and ate the food quickly. As she ate, the man studied her.

"So," the man started before she had finished the food, toying with the Dominion Jewel he held. "Does Thief-king Mikiali know that he got beat to his job by a woman?"

Miache scowled at him. "I am Mikiali, which you won't repeat. Now give that back."

He ignored the last sentence, continuing to play with it. "You were hired by the Gallans." His voice and face hid all emotion.

Miache shrugged, finishing her food. "Understand, I normally wouldn't explain myself, but I suppose I owe you something for hauling me out of the water. I was hired by Gallans, but couldn't stand the cold, and wasn't sure I'd get paid if I gave it to them. So I'm most likely going to sell it to the emperor of Carthak."

The man took her bowl and put more soup in it, handing it back. Miache wondered if she was being poisoned, but ate anyway. She'd made herself immune to a lot of things. "Who are you?"

"Ah, I've not introduced myself," the man said. He gave a slight bow. "I am Zefrem the Bear, mercenary."

"Call me Miache," was the reply, before she tried to bite off her own tongue. Think before you speak, stupid! Yelled her mind.

"A pleasure to meet you… thief-queen Miache," said Zefrem with a small smile. Miache scowled, and decided eating the food was a better option then talking.

When the second bowl of soup was finished, Zefrem sat on the bed next to Miache, and gently touched her head where the soreness was centered. He parted her hair gently to look at it.

"You seem to be fine," he told her. "But I would suggest staying put until tomorrow."

Miache nodded. She had no reason to move and the mercenary might have something in mind for her, and wouldn't want to hand her over easily to anyone of authority. She settled against the wall the bed was against and watched the mercenary settle down, studying his sword to see if it needed to be sharpened.

"Where are we?" Miache asked.

Zefrem shrugged. "Tusain. I found this place abandoned and have been staying here for a bit. You're lucky I went fishing when I did."

Something about his name teased her. She could have sworn she knew it…

"Zefrem the Bear who slayed a god?" she asked, sounding relaxed, wondering where her knives where.

Zefrem threw back his head and laughed. "Is that what's being said about me now?" he chuckled. "I'm not fool enough to kill a god. But you get named a god's champion, and everyone says the damndest things."

"A god's champion? How'd you do that?"

Zefrem told her. His story took the better part of an hour, about Mithros and a desert in the realm of the gods. Miache had never out grown her love of stories, and this one was told better then some minstrels could have done. At the end, he wanted a story in return, demanding to know if she was really the Trickster. Miache laughed. She hadn't realized how easily she could do so.

"No, but I did meet him once. I…" she shook her head. "It was interesting."

They traded stories for hours. The hut had no windows, so she couldn't see out, but it didn't matter. She'd met someone who could match her wit without wanting to kill her. By the end, all his weapons were taken care of, two swords, an axe, and three knives. Her own were on the foot of the bed in her pack. Miache yawned and Zefrem decided she shouldn't push herself.

"Go to sleep," he told her. "We'll talk more in the morning."

Miache nodded. "Th- thank you."

Zefrem gave a smirk that did odd things to her pulse. "When's the last time you said that to someone?"

"I don't remember." But she was asleep before he laughed softly.

Miache woke before Zefrem in the morning. Zefrem was pleased with that, as he woke to see Miache's bare back, pale skin, scars, and muscle. She had her pants and boots on already.

"You could stay like that," he suggested, his voice rough with sleep. Miache snorted.

"Too cold." She shook out the corset he had pulled off her and tied it around her chest, making her look like a man. Her shirt was put on after and she turned, pausing when she saw him.

Zefrem had pulled off his shirt when he went to sleep, and he was stretching, showing off taunt, sculpted muscles.

Damn, Miache thought, not quiet able to remember what she had been thinking… and it had been a long time since that had happened because of a man.

"So," Zefrem said, keeping his shirt off and leaning against the wall. "You're bound for Carthak. Would you mind company?"

MIache raised an eyebrow. "You want to come with?"

Zefrem shrugged. "No reason not to. I'm bored, and haven't been to Carthak in a while. Might as well go with you."

Miache consented and they had a breakfast of jerky before leaving, Miache getting the Jewel back from her companion when he wasn't looking. As they walked along the river, trading stories, she realized why her companion was called 'the bear'. He was a good 6 feet tall at least, probably taller. His brown hair fell to his shoulders, looking shaggy. His shoulders were broad with muscle, and he looked like he could take down a bear. Miache never really felt small at 5 foot 10, but this man did it.

It took three weeks to get to Tyra, where they decided to stay in the city before crossing over to Carthak, but got a nasty surprise when they arrived.

"Been like this for nearly a month," said the innkeeper where they stayed. The inn was nearly empty, save some battered looking soldiers. "Carthak navy been attacking, all our nobles up and left, Duke's insane. We all best run afore we're slaves."

Miache leaned back in her chair, staring out the window. The Jewel against her skin was warm, and her gut was saying to do something. She stood up.

"I'm going to take a look," she said. Zefrem stood and followed her. The pair walked silently through the city until they found a way to get onto the city walls. Looking over the ocean, there were war barges, firing steadily.

"What do you think?" asked Miache. Zefrem put his lips to her neck. They'd become lovers while traveling, and that didn't seem likely to change soon.

"I don't like giving up a fight. Don't care if it's loss."

Miache continued to stare at the barges. "I know about those. I know their weaknesses."

The soldiers near by seemed to pick up slightly, but Miache ignored them. "Let's beat them."

Zefrem smiled against her skin. "Let's."

Miache found swimmers throughout the city, from kids of 12 to adults with grandchildren. She taught them what the weakness was of the barges, and swam with them out to disrupt the boats. Zefrem split his time between ordering catapults built and training the men left to fight.

A week after they arrived, the innkeeper refused to take payment for their room. When he found out they had the Dominion Jewel, he offered to ask around to find out how to use it- something neither Miache nor Zefrem could do.

Rumors starting spreading. Miliaki, who was really Miache, was in the city, with Zefrem the Bear who was a god's champion, and they were fighting off Carthaks for a people that weren't theirs. People who knew what the Jewel could do and knew the people in question, figured the Jewel was telling them to stay, so they stayed.

More and more people came. Miache got more swimmers, and Zefrem got more fighters, some who actually knew what they were doing. A schedule got worked out for when catapults got used and when the swimmers went out. Bargs sunk under the harrying, and odds of the fight started to even out.

One morning, Miache buried her face against Zefrem, growling. "You wanna shoot those damn birds for me?"

Zefrem blinked, then frowned, sitting up. "I've been here at least four times, and there have never been birds in this city."

"The inn keeper said something similar about the fish," Miache muttered, pulling a pillow over her head. Zefrem looked down at her, smiling slightly. She hadn't cut her hair in a while, and the ends stuck out under the pillow. He stroked some of the strands, noticing the similarity to silk. Then he sighed and rolled out of bed.

It took several weeks, through to spring of the following year. But then the Carthakis left. Miache wandered through the streets the night that the formal surrender was given, and noticed something odd.

It wasn't the thief's haven the city had been before. More importantly, she approved. That was unsettling.

"Miache," called Zefrem. She turned to him, pausing in the street. He beckoned to her, and they went up to the city walls, a spot with no guards. They kissed for a bit, until Zefrem just held her. "Let's go. Our work here is done. We should go somewhere else."

Miache listened to his heart beat. "Yeah. Let's."

In the morning, the only thing they left behind was the Dominion Jewel.


End file.
